PortalShock
by Michaela-Le-Mongoola
Summary: Lonely and desperate, Chell writes down the account of her time in the city of Aperture, hoping to warn others of the dangers that roam the underground society. But when her story is finished, will you trust her every word? Rated M. First person.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:I do not own Portal or BioShock. They belong to the sheer brilliance of Valve and 2K respectively. I claim no ownership over either of them. I just thought they compliment each other rather nicely, so I put them together in fiction. Now that the Legal Eagle has been appeased we can continue :) .

Author's Note: This is the first crossover I have ever written! Woot! It is also my first real attempt to write a story in the first person perspective, so please bear with me if it seems a little sluggish at times.

This story is more Portal orientated as far as the characters are concerned, but the overall theme is one of BioShock proportions. Aspects from both BioShock 1 and 2 are included in this "pleasant" little tale, and the Portal stuff steers more towards Portal 2 than it does the first game (but there are references to it).

This story is rated M, due to its content. Expect gratuitous gore and vivid descriptions of said gore. Also expect great amounts of horror and bad language. You have been warned.

Also, original title is original :/ .

Enjoy, folks!

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Prologue

The Book

I am special.

Please don't feel that I'm bragging, because I'm not. I am in no way better than anyone else on this planet. But the simple fact remains that I - a seemingly inconspicuous individual - am special. I only wish that this were not the case.

I would introduce myself, but there isn't much to say. I can say that I am a woman. I can say that I am of average height, slim build, and have long brown hair and eyes of a greyish blue. Judging by my appearance I would say that I am now in my mid-twenties, but I cannot be exactly sure.

You may be wondering why I am oblivious to my true age. Let me explain this to you in simple terms; for the greater part of my life, I had no memory.

Well, I lied before: there are many things that are interesting about me. Yet these things surprise even me, because I don't remember living through any of them. I don't remember being any of them. These things could simply be the fictional fevered imaginings of an insane mind – tales passed from mouth to mouth until they finally reached my ears. However, from lost memories buried somewhere in the deepest fathoms of my mind, I reluctantly admit that these things are most likely true.

After all, stranger things have happened before. I know. I'm living through them now.

I gave you a lacklustre description of myself and so, as a favour to you, I will now make my tale a lot more interesting for you. Please don't believe this is fiction, that it is nothing but a lie. It is real. It's real...

My first memory is of two words, echoing through the darkness. Two very simple and innocent words; "she's alive."

I was in a hospital, strapped to my bed. I was told by the doctors that I had been brought there as a child and had gone into a coma long before I had arrived to receive their attention. They would never say who had brought me to that place, stating that they knew not of the individual's identity. They were feigning ignorance, of course. They knew something, they just wouldn't tell me. Maybe they couldn't tell me.

Most of my life was lived in that bed, as I grew and aged in my sleep until, at last, I woke inside my adult body. Why the hospital had kept me alive that entire time was a complete mystery to me back then. After all, there were so many other patients that needed the attention that I received – medical treatment that they were fully prepared to pay for. I paid for nothing when I woke. Why would they choose to care for a homeless, unknown and unloved stray, when they had a horde of paying customers with full medical insurance policies? Well I understand it all now, but that will be explained later. If you survive that long.

Just a quick question; have you looked over your shoulder lately? The freaks may create a lot of noise most of the time, but some of them have learnt that silence is a virtue.

During my days of conscious thought, trapped within the hospital, I grew very fond of one nurse in particular. Her name was Mary, an Italian American, and she spoke fluent Italian in the most beautiful manner. She gave me a nickname whilst I was there. She called me Cielo. It means Heaven in her language, apparently. I asked her why she had called me this, and she said it was because I was a gift from Heaven itself, sent to them by God so that I could be nurtured into health and adulthood. I liked the sound that the name made but I wasn't particularly religious, so I changed it to Chell and made it my name.

Chell Redacted: that's my name. Redacted was a joke on my part, but I thought that it was appropriate considering my circumstances. I had always thought that it would be more interesting than whatever my real name was. I'm laughing now – I was right.

Once I was able to leave the hospital as a patient I returned as a member of staff. I had no job prospects elsewhere, but the people at the hospital knew me. I took up a position as a receptionist and found a hobby in extreme sports. I took up skydiving, mountain climbing, abseiling... you name it, I did it. I had extreme tastes, and they needed to be satiated, but nothing excited me more than caving.

I felt at home in caves and caverns. They were a sanctuary of sorts, a place where I could live in a confused state of peace and constant peril simultaneously.

It was also in a cave that I met my first love, Cody.

Cody was a man who lived his life to the full. He embraced everything that life threw at him, and he even took me on as his girlfriend. He didn't care that I'd been in a coma most of my life. Cody only cared that I was compensating for what I had lacked by living my life as I wanted to live it. I loved that man. I still do. But he is gone now.

We had travelled to Michigan to find a cave of almost legendary proportions. We found it too, like no other had before. Well, that was what we believed at the time. But as we came across small signs that betrayed a hive of human activity within the rocky walls, the cavern that we were in capsized. Somehow, against all the odds, I survived. Cody was not so lucky. I know – I checked.

Have you ever seen a crushed human body before? Take it from me, you don't want to, and especially not when it is one of your loved ones.

I'm feeling sick. Again. It could be the thoughts of Cody. It could be... well, I just don't know anymore. There is now so much filth in my bloodstream that I'm not sure if I'm still me. I could be one of _them_, and I'd be too insane to notice.

Just look around you, make sure that you are safe. Like I said, some of these freaks have become wise to their own movements. And yours.

The freaks. You probably know what they are by now, but I'll tell you anyway. Splicers.

Whatever you do, don't become one of them. Don't give in to the ways of this accursed city, this subterranean society of madness and despair. It will drag you down just as it crumbles deeper and deeper into the Earth. It belongs there, anyway. It deserves to burn.

I'm writing this book as a warning to you. If you know my story, then yours may have the happier ending. Learn from my existence in this place.

Just remember, don't become too distracted with reading this tale. Move often and remain vigilant. If you haven't already, find a weapon. Use anything - just arm yourself! I cannot stress enough the importance of self-defence or all out aggression in this place. And don't be charmed by this city's ancient propaganda. This place was never great.

One more thing: you are being watched. Even now. Yes, you. _She_ is watching you. She isn't the big brother that those on the surface talk about when they speak of CCTV cameras. She is a real creature. She is the Big Sister.

You may think that I am crazy, but if you're reading this then that means that you are probably insane too. This city has that kind of effect on people.

Welcome to Aperture, my friend.

We do what we must. Because we can.


	2. Welcome To Aperture

Author's Note: Hello, Hello! New chapter goodness for everybody! May I just apologise in advance for any terrible spelling and grammar? Oh, and if the tense changes at any point. I have literally been writing this all day, it's nearly one in the morning for me, and I'm too tired to edit (I'll do it later, I promise).

Hope you enjoy folks! Some of you may already see where I'm going with this plot. Well, it will be a strange mix of the plot from BioShock, and my own plotline for the Portal characters in this story. This hopefully means that it won't be too predictable XD .

Happy reading :3 .

* * *

Chapter One

Welcome To Aperture

Drowning would be an awful way to die. Your lungs burn and ache, you writhe uncontrollably as panic overcomes you, and the weight of the water forces you deeper and deeper into the depths. The fear and oppression that the situation creates crushes you. Trapped underwater, twisting this way and that, trying to find the surface, trying to find air... it forces you to come to terms with your own mortality, and presents you with two options; life (if you're lucky) and death (if you're not). And as I too found myself in this situation, I became one of the lucky ones.

Well, I say lucky. Perhaps drowning would have been the better option, considering my current circumstances. But we'll get to that later.

Cody was dead. Crushed. And it was as I mourned him that the floor beneath me gave way, and plunged me into the murky depths of the underground lake below. I had no time to hold my breath, and the little air that had been stored inside my lungs was forced from my mouth as the impact winded me. My situation was made worse by all of the heavy caving gear that I was carrying on my person, and my now waterlogged clothes restricted my movement. I do not know how long I was lost in there, but I remember seeing a small flicker of orange light. Instinct told me to follow it, and as I am not one to ignore my instinct I obeyed.

Falling stones, as big as cars, cut through the surface of the water like knives. It seemed as though luck were once again in my favour, as each piece of debris missed me by margins that were quite wide, but that remained far too close for comfort.

With one final push as the strangled moans of near-suffocation and desperation filtered through my pursed lips, my face was forced through the barrier between dry and damp, and into the cool air above.

I gasped at the air, trying to swallow as much as I could before I was inevitably pulled back underwater by the small wave I had created. My head was forced under the wave - flooding my nose and ears and making them pop and tingle – before I once again resurfaced and stayed there, coughing and spluttering as precious oxygen flooded my lungs.

Once I had caught my breath and had blinked away the water in my eyes, I could see the source of the light was a collection of decoratively encased fluorescent bulbs, all of them arching around an equally as intricately crafted door that had been installed into a flattened and smooth cave wall. The rest of the cavern was dark, and had a thin veil of mist floating just above the water's surface. One of the lights flickered, blinking in and out of existence constantly.

With sore and aching muscles I propelled myself towards the shore, finding land in the shape of a flight of stairs that led directly to the door.

At the time I did not want to comprehend the existence of this door, or that of the steps and lighting that went with it. I was just glad to be alive. But as I sat upon the steps, crying for Cody and my own unfortunate situation, my mind slowly fed me the obvious facts that had been presented to me; there was an ornate door, deep underground, in a cave that had been rumoured to be a mere legend. Somebody had been down here before. Somebody had clearly been here a while, judging by the wear on the door itself. Somebody could still be down here. That somebody could know the way out of this God-awful place.

I made up my mind in that one moment; I'd find my way out of this place, rather than just lie there and die (something that had crossed my mind many times as I sat upon those steps). My ability to make executive and steadfast decisions had always been one of my stronger points. I think some people would describe this as stubborn. Well I would describe these naysayers as stupid, so... swings and roundabouts.

But first I needed to shed the extra weight that I was carrying. For most people, the thought of ridding yourself of vital caving equipment whilst in a cave would be foolish and laughable. Yet somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew that I didn't need most of it. I kept my backpack, which contained snacks, water and first-aid kits. I had my emergency blanket, and a lighter if I ever needed to start a fire. My rope too was added to my backpack, as were a couple of hooks, my belay device and the keys to my flat. My phone I discarded: it had been damaged by the water, and there was no signal in the caves. It was pointless to carry it with me.

Next were my clothes. I took my wallet from my jacket pocket and hid that within the confines of my backpack. The jacket was cast aside, leaving only my soaked hooded top behind. My trousers I had to keep, and the same applied to my boots.

I'm wearing the same clothes now; white hooded jumper, bright orange trousers (they were practical, not a fashion statement – you were seen more easily by your caving companions if you wore bright colours) and white and grey boots. All bloodied and torn now, of course. You could never expect less in Aperture.

Why am I telling you this? I'm telling you because, should you ever chance upon a corpse bearing this ensemble, let it be a warning to you: if you find me, turn back – if you continue onwards you will most likely meet the same fate as my unfortunate self.

Feeling a vast improvement in weight I gave the underground lake one last glance before turning to the door, blinking away unshod tears. 'Goodbye, Cody.'

It was all I could say: I've never been great with goodbyes.

The door was easy to open, despite its large size, but the room beyond it was pitch black, with only a thin strip of light along the floor, courtesy of the open door. The air felt much cooler beyond, and a sudden bout of second thoughts danced around inside my head. Something just did not feel right about this place. It was, for the want of a better word, creepy.

'Come on, Chell,' I berated myself, shaking my head, 'it's just dark. The dark can't hurt you. You just need a little light...' And as my voice broke off into silence I searched through a side-pocket of my backpack for the lighter. Wet, cold fingers found the equally as damp and chilled metal casing, and I managed to free the lighter from its pocket. With a flip the case opened, and I ran my thumb across the strike several times. Nothing happened.

With a scowl I tried again. There was no spark to be seen. Even the pungent smell of the lighter fluid had been dulled down thanks to the lighters brief watery excursion. Growling, I threw it over my shoulder to where my jacket lay in a forlorn heap. 'Useless crap. I didn't need you anyway.' I was lying of course, but I have a tendency to act like a petty child when I'm angry.

With a large intake of breath I gathered together every scrap of courage that I possessed and stepped into the darkness of the room beyond. It was obviously a large room, as I heard my footsteps bounce from the unseen walls. 'Well, this isn't so bad.'

But then the door slammed shut behind me and, with a short squeal, I turned madly about as the sound of electricity crackled into life. It was nothing but darkness and static for a few more seconds, but then light rained own upon me like the sun. It blinded me at first, but as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I found myself face to face with a gigantic statue of a man.

It was obvious to me that this statue had once been insanely grand, but now the gold figure had dulled and was in need of a thorough cleaning and polishing session. The man himself, however, had remained proud, as the smile upon his rather handsome face betrayed. He had a long, well-structured face, thin lips and a curved nose, and his hair was gelled back into what I could only describe as an Elvis quiff. Even the dead form of the statue could not hide the life that had been in this man's eyes.

A deep red banner was hung in front of the statue, seemingly cutting the man in two. It was embellished with a proud gold printing that read _"Science isn't about why. It's about why not!"_. I couldn't be exactly sure, but I believed that the words were a direct quote from the man that the statue depicted.

Below the statue there was a plaques, made of the same aged gold. Words had been inscribed into it, though they had become worn and difficult to read in places. The plaques read;

"_Our Founder._

_Scientist. Visionary. Leader. Man."_

I mouthed the words that I read, scowling in confusion and deep thought. No wonder this man's statue was made of gold, if he had been so important. But just who was he, and what had he founded? The room that I had found myself locked in certainly told me that this place was grand – it was all Art Deco inspired - all grandeur, all excess – but what in the name of Hell was it?

'Science...' I said, my voice growing quiet as I looked up to the banner above me. 'This place doesn't seem very scientific to me.' I turned away, following the newly illuminated stairs downwards. 'It's more like some fancy hotel.'

The stairs led me to an ornate gold elevator (which could only go deeper into the Earth, I noted, as there was a distinct absence of any extra levels above it), centred inside a small room built of green-tinted marble. If the lighting had been as bright as it had been upstairs then the effect would have been quite beautiful, but the poor light made the room sickly-looking instead. On the walls were circular decorations, with the words "science" and "industry" embellished into them. Once again I wondered just how this place could even be considered scientific, and now I looked for any obvious signs of industry. I found none and, with a roll of my eyes, I made my way towards the lift.

But then I stopped. Images of Cody flashed before my eyes. Sights, sounds and smells flooded my senses, making me feel as though my head would surely explode. My knees buckled under my own weight and I fell to the floor, cradling my head.

'Chell! Chell, where are you?' Cody's voice called out. 'I can't see you!'

'I'm here!' I called back, shouting to an empty room. 'Cody!'

'I can see you!'

Turning to look behind me, I could see a figure at the top of the stairs. It was obviously human, but was so badly bloodied that its features were hidden. Broken bone pierced through torn flesh, showing the pulsing muscles underneath as they bulged outwards and into the air. It was a stumbling, misshapen mess, a monster by any other name, but when it spoke it spoke with a voice so chillingly familiar that I froze to the spot.

'I can see you, Chell!'

'Cody?'

'Yeah.' His voice growled, before an accusing finger was pointed in her direction. 'You left me. You didn't even stop to care.'

'No...'

'You just wanted to escape!'

'No!' And as I cried he lunged forwards, falling down the steps like some kind of grotesque rag doll. With a scream I locked myself inside the elevator, turning only to find the switch and a completely empty room. No Cody, no voices. The lights had even grown brighter.

It was all an hallucination.

With a heaving sigh I fell against the wall of the elevator and into the seat below it. I didn't stop to think about how unusual it was to have seats in an elevator, but instead sat with my head in my hands, blinking back tears. How could I have left Cody behind? Even if he was dead, he didn't deserve to be abandoned. But if I stopped to think about him, I too would probably die here as well. I had to put myself first. I had to. For survival.

'Cody,' I breathed, 'when I find help, I'll come back for you. I won't leave you down here. But for now it's just me. Just me.'

I waited for the panic and fear to subside before I looked up at the large elevator. There were only two buttons – a start button and an alarm – and on the opposite wall there was a radio.

With a slow and shaking hand I reached out for the button to activate the machine that I was sat within, wondering whether or not continuing this descent was such a good idea. After all, I had no idea where I was, my boyfriend was dead, and I was in a terrible state of mind.

But my finger pressed the button, and the choice was made as the glass-panelled doors slid closed and the elevator descended into the Earth, passing through crudely carved rocky walls. Occasionally I would pass a single light that illuminated a sign announcing the depth of the shaft.

3750m... 3800m... 3850m...

I was beginning to wonder just how far into the Earth the shaft tunnelled when a shutter automatically dropped down before the doors. With a startled jump I slid further along the seat, and watched as a projector appeared from within the elevator walls, pointing directly at the shutter. It showed an image of a logo, circular in shape, made up of small scalene triangles.

The next slide was an advert, and it caused me to blink twice. It showed two people, a man and a woman, and the man was lighting the woman's cigarette... with his fingertip.

You'll forgive me if I say that I actually rubbed my eyes.

"_Fire at your fingertips! _

_Incinerate!_

_Plasmids by Aperture Science."_

Once again I frowned. It could never be possible to light a fire with your fingers, unless you yourself were already on fire. And if you were on fire, then it could not have been by choice. It was simply ridiculous that you could summon up a fire – a safe, controlled fire – from within your own, organic fingertips.

The slide changed again, showing an image of the man who had been crafted into a statue. He was sat in a rather plush looking seat, and held a smoking cigar in one hand. There were words next to him, words that read _"From the Desk of Johnson"_.

I opened my mouth to make a sound of mild surprise, but I was cut short by a man's voice. It was a friendly, charismatic voice. A voice that you would trust whole-heartedly. It was a voice accompanied by changing images that I soon recognised as blatant propaganda.

'Greetings friend! I'm Cave Johnson, and I'm here to ask you a question: is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? No, says the man in Washington. It belongs to the poor. No, says the man in the Vatican. It belongs to God. No, says the man in Moscow. It belongs to everyone.'

I had to stop and think. If he was talking about Moscow, and if the slide being shown to me was one associated to Soviet Russia, just how old was this recording? I was living in the year nineteen-ninety six, not the fifties or the sixties.

Intrigued, I listened intently.

'I rejected those answers,' Cave Johnson continued. 'Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose science and industry. I chose...'

The shutter vanished, as did the projector, leaving the windows and the world beyond open to my vision. And when I saw the sight that met my eyes, my heart stopped beating.

Johnson's voice had a pride to it as he finished. '… Aperture.'

Aperture... It was beautiful. A vast city built deep under the ground, in a sprawling series of deeply carved caverns. Every building was a tower, creating an endless jungle of stone, lights and glass. Walkways joined one building to another, creating an intertwining network of covered catwalks and suspension wires. Bright neon lights formed enticing signs for various shows, restaurants and shops.

The elevator stopped, and the floor shuddered as a new mechanism went to work beneath my feet. With a sudden jolt the elevator lurched forwards, following a thin track made of what seemed to be pure golden light. It carried me through the city, and as I looked about myself in wonder, I saw more of these golden threads weaving throughout the sprawling towers.

'This place is amazing,' I breathed, pressing my hands up against the glass of the windows. However, as amazed and enthralled as I was, there was one thing that was putting me at unease; 'But where are all the people?' I had not seen a single living soul since I had first found that door.

'Aperture: a city where the artist would not fear the censor.' Johnson's recording continued. 'Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And, with the sweat of your brow, Aperture can become your city as well.'

His voice was now backed by faint but grand music - a fanfare of sorts - as his rousing speech ended. 'So, welcome to Aperture. You're here because we want the best, and you are it.'

To say that Johnson's recording worried me is not an understatement. His voice may have been warm and inviting, but his words betrayed a darker tone. They had led me to believe that he was a man of greed and power, and not a man worthy of my allegiance and trust – I did not keep company with possible megalomaniacs who, as a middle finger to society, built their own underground city where their greed could flourish unhindered by any government, monarchy or religious body.

It was as I was thinking upon Johnson's speech that I saw it; a single, solitary figure, high up on a catwalk, making repairs to some of the support cables. I could not have been sure, but it looked too angular to be considered as a human. I squinted, trying to focus in on the figure, but was distracted by a crackle from the radio. By the time I had looked back, the catwalk had been hidden behind a building.

'Shit!' I breathed, mentally berating myself for allowing myself to be distracted.

The radio crackled again, and a faint male voice struggled through the static. '… Looks... likkkkkeesssfff... some sssssssssort of cave in.'

Another voice replied, also a man's voice. 'Butffffsh... deep uffffskh... underground. What... does it matterrshk?'

'I dunno.' The first voice answered, their radio now free of any major static interference. 'You best get over there, and be quick about it – the Splicers are coming.'

'You've got to be kidding!' The voice sounded alarmed. 'They...' The interference returned, and I put my ear to my own radio to try and make sense of the noise.

'… That means we've got company.' The first voice finished before the radio signal cut out.

A multitude of confused thoughts ran through my mind. The most prevalent of these was in regards to these Splicers that the first man had mentioned. The very mention of their name had been enough to scare the second man witless... what exactly were they? Well, with a name like Splicers I had already guessed that they would not be a pleasant bunch.

The rail carried me towards a glass tunnel that led into one of the larger buildings in the immediate area. It was illuminated by neon lights formed into the shape of words, blinking and sparking into life in increments as my elevator carried me further into the tunnel: _"All good things of this Earth flow into the city"_. It was as I was carried into the building that I noticed, printed onto the archway that bade me entrance, the words _"Aperture Transit Authority_".

Inside the building was another, shorter tunnel that came to a stop in a thin shaft. I was surrounded by more adverts, this time announcing that the power of Telekinesis could be yours for free from the dentist. The. Dentist. If these things actually worked, then they must have been as abundant as chocolate bars, and that was worrying.

There was a quick jolt and the elevator rose, travelling upwards at a gentle but hasty speed, passing yet more fluorescent shaft lights.

'Just one more minute.' Came the voice of the second man, but it was not on my radio. It was outside, somewhere above my head. 'The elevat... the elevator's coming up now!'

'Johnny, secure the elevator locks or else it'll fall over.' The first man replied. 'Now get a move on!'

As the elevator drew to a stop the shaft opened out to a dark, shadowy room. There was a loud click as the machinery held the small mobile room into place, and I looked out of the window to a lone figure stood by the controls. They gave me a quick wave, and I waved back, albeit slowly.

'Hey! I'm Johnny!' It was the second man from the radio. 'Just wait a minute, I'll get you out of there. The damn locks have jammed up.'

I nodded, suddenly unable to speak. If only I could have spoken – I could have warned Johnny of the figure that jumped down from the ceiling before he saw it himself.

'Please...' Johnny whimpered, backing away from the shadow-cast figure. 'I'm just trying to help this lady. Please, just don't hurt me. Just let me go!'

The shadowy figure, however, refused to listen to his pleas and struck him with a blinding speed, lashing out with what looked like butcher's hooks. I screamed as Johnny did, watching as he fell to his knees.

The room went dark. It was only for a matter of seconds, but Johnny's blood-curdling screams drew out the time. A wet slashing could be heard outside, as could a vicious snarl and the poor man's chocking sobs.

The few lights that there were flickered back on, and I could see, all too clearly, as Johnny was lifted into the air - his attacker's hooks buried into his stomach – and pulled apart from the inside out, spilling blood and tissue over the window like some twisted piece of modern art.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I threw up at the sight.

The lights died for a second and final time and, in the dark, I heard what remained of Johnny's body being unceremoniously dropped upon the floor.

With my hand against my mouth I fell against the wall of the elevator. I retched as my body tried to expel more of the remaining contents of my stomach, but I somehow managed to keep the vomit down. As the full reality of what had just happened hit me, I realised that I was shaking with an unpleasant mix of adrenaline and fear. I had witnessed two gruesome deaths in the space of an hour, something that no one should have to face. Your body – your mind – just can't take it in. It drives you over the edge emotionally, and you begin to wonder if the deaths were because of you; you feel like a bad omen, who brings terrible luck to those around you.

Little did I know then that this was only the start of my thoroughly unpleasant time, here in Aperture, and as the murderous figure approached the elevator, the hooks glowing red hot in the dark, I remained completely oblivious as to how dangerous the city truly was.

I had stupidly thought that this was an isolated incident.

The sound of the murderer's breathing was unnervingly high-pitched and forced, whereas I kept mine as slow and as steady as possible behind my hand. I stood completely still and unblinking, hoping that my lack of movement and sound would convince the creature that the elevator was empty. It pressed its face up to the glass before quickly backing away. 'Is it someone... new?'

I watched as the figure vanished to the side of the elevator, screaming as they leapt into the air. All was silent for a few seconds, but then the shrill screech of metal scraping metal pierced through my ear drums, making me cry out in pain and fear. Electrical sparks shot around around me, sparking a bright and furious blue. The elevator shook and creaked as the creature jumped around it, climbed over it, scratched away at its surface.

I heard a breathing and panicked, only to realise as I took a gulp of air that it was mine.

'I'm asleep. I'm asleep. I'm asleep.' I repeated, over and over again, trying to convince myself that this was all just a nightmare. But the difference between dream and reality was that, if you died in a dream, you woke up alive. I could not afford to allow myself the luxurious thought that this was all a deranged fantasy of my unconscious mind. I would have a better chance of survival if I admitted to myself that this was all real, that I had to fight to survive, that if I died then I would not wake up in my safe, warm bed.

But then all became silent once more as the figure appeared in front of the windows, looked about itself, before turning on its heel and lurching away, its arms swinging by its sides like a lumbering ape.

I blinked, slowly taking my hand away from my mouth. Slowly, I crept towards the doors and thought, briefly, about trying to prise them apart.

The radio crackled, and I turned to it with fear. But the voice that spoke was oddly reassuring – the voice of the man that had been speaking to Johnny. 'Would you kindly pick up that short-wave radio?'

Without a second thought, I did.

The man spoke again, his voice now as clear as a cloudless sky. 'I don't know how you survived that cave in, but I've never been one to question providence.'

Still shaking in fright, I spoke. My voice quivered just as badly as my body. 'Wh- who are you?'

'I'm Atlas, and I aim to keep you alive. Now keep moving, little lady. We're going to have to get you to higher ground. I'll get the doors open for you.' True to his word, the doors slid open. 'Take a deep breath, and step out of the elevator. I won't leave you twisting in the wind.'

'Wait, what was that thing? The one that killed Johnny?'

There was no answer.

'How do I know I should listen to you?'

'You don't; you're just going to have to trust me.'

With a stammered curse, and tentative steps, I moved forward with the radio held tightly in my hand. Looking in every direction other than Johnny's, I made my slow way out of the elevator and down the corridor, jumping at the slightest noises. I could smell the fresh gore that the corpse created, and it put a little more speed into my step. I really did not want to stay there.

The room that I was in was large, dark and airy. It was, like the initial elevator room, decorated in the Art Deco style. The one large window showed me the city beyond, glittering with bright and abusive neon colours. Next to the window was a large glass pod that crackled with electricity. Above it were the words _"Vita-Chamber"_. With a quick glance over my shoulder I made my way towards it, to read the description on the poster next to it;

"_Introducing the future of health and wellness,_

_The Vita-Chamber!_

_Restore vigour and spirit with the touch of a button!"_

I would have loved to restore my energy, but I did not care much for the rather violent sparks of chamber-bound lightening. Instead I turned to make my way towards a flight of stairs, stepping over discarded picket signs that read _"We're not your property!", "Aperture is dead!"_ and _"Johnson doesn't own us!"_.

_'So_,' I thought to myself, _'it seems that this place went to Hell. Probably because of this Johnson fella.' _I scuffed one of the signs with my boot. _'But that doesn't explain what that thing was.' _

As if on cue, I heard the breathing of the murderous creature somewhere in the distance. The breathing turned into a voice, and the voice turned into words. 'Oh... I'll wrap you in a sheet.'

'Hey,' Atlas' voice began, sparking into life with the radio, 'just a bit further...'

There was a loud scream, and I turned to find the murderer staring straight at me. I froze, something that I'm still not proud of, but as the creature approached a bright flashlight and loud alarm found it.

'How do you like that, mister?' Atlas cried, triumphant, as the flashlight followed the human-like creature as it scaled the walls like a spider. I ducked as something flew over my head, a large and white oval-like construction fitted with propellers and two guns that were deployed from its sides. A laser sight followed the wall-climbing assailant. 'Target acquired.' The flying gun chirped in a sickeningly sweet child-like voice and took pursuit as the creature vanished into one of the cracks in the wall, opening fire as it flew higher and higher.

The alarm died, and as I moved forwards I was drawn to a series of green dots that blinked in and out of life in a circular fashion. Inside the circle was a camera. It followed my every move, inching this way and that as a human's head would do if they were examining something of great interest.

Atlas chuckled over the radio. 'I can see you. Hey, don't worry about this camera – it's safe, I hacked it. Now, would you kindly find a crowbar or something?' The camera inclined itself towards the only door out of the room. It had been barricaded by debris. 'The bloody Splicers sealed Johnny in before he...' His voice died into a defeated silence. But when he spoke again, his voice had picked up a harsh and hateful tone. 'Goddamn, Splicers!'

'I'm sorry about your friend.' I said quietly, watching as the flying gun reappeared from the crack in the wall and hovered down to where I stood. It's bright red optic searched my face as it bobbed around in the air before me. 'Hello, friend.' It had a smile to its auto-tuned voice.

Atlas sighed. 'Johnny was a good kid. A good kid. Well, to answer your earlier question, that thing was a Splicer. So, I'll leave you with this Aperture Science Air-Borne Turret. It will stay with you, so long as it's functional. Once it's broken though, you'll be on your own. ' He paused before speaking with a little more urgency. 'Now, crowbar. Anything. Get on it.'

Vaulting over the fallen support beam that separated me from the door, my gaze found a wrench lying on the floor nearby. It felt heavy in my hand, as a good wrench should, but it meant that I had no free hand to use. Kneeling down, I slid my backpack from my person, and tied the radio to one of my shoulder straps with a piece of rope. Satisfied that it was safely attached, I slid my bag back over my shoulders, picked up my newly acquired wrench from the floor and made my way towards the crude barricade.

With well-placed swings I had knocked away the debris in very little time and had crawled through the space that I had created for both me and my Turret companion.

On the other side was a single corridor, filled primarily with stairs. At the top of the stairs was a brightly burning fire. 'Oh, come on!' I breathed, pushing myself to my feet. The Turret flew after me. 'This is not good.' It noted, its optic.

'No,' I replied, 'it really isn't.'

If I had not already seen the underground city, then I knew this flying Turret would have terrified and confused me, but after two deaths, Aperture, a Vita-Chamber and a Splicer, I had the feeling that flying Turrets would be the least surprising things here. It is strange, but I had even expected something like this flying harbinger of death to exist down here.

'Come on,' I said, waving the wrench in the direction of the stairs. 'We'll have to find some way of getting passed it when we get up there...' My eyes grew wide as the fire slid towards us. At first I thought it was a body, but it was a sofa instead. Bracing myself, I waited until the time was right, and I leapt over the flaming mass as it rolled ever further down. The heat licked at my skin, creating an uncomfortable stinging sensation, but I safely landed on the other side, wobbling as I temporarily lost my balance on the steps.

The Turret was not so lucky, as it was struck by the sofa and sent flying into the wall, now very much alight. 'I'm on fire. Ow.' A pause. 'It burns.' With that it exploded in a shower of bullets, shell and circuitry.

_'Well, that was short lived.'_ I thought with a resigned sigh. It was just me and the wrench now, it seemed, as I climbed the stairs and strained all of my senses for any signs of potential threats. It was only when I got to the top of the stairs, faced by a gigantic window to the vastness of Aperture beyond, that I heard another Splicer run up behind me.

'Another bad person!' He called, aiming a piece of broken piping at my head. Side-stepping the attack, I planted my wrench in his face, feeling a sick sense of self-satisfaction for defending myself so well.

I don't know what overcame me, but the urge to discover and survive drove me to search the Splicer's body for any kind of ID, or any other clue as to who he had been and what had happened here. I had thought about asking Atlas, but I had the feeling that he would have been a little reserved with telling me the whole story. I would just have to discover it for myself.

I searched quickly, finding no ID. Instead there were a few meagre dollars (which I claimed as my own - he no longer had any need for money) and a syringe filled with a strange blue liquid.

The syringe intrigued me. Was it supposed to be some kind of medication? Was it a drug? As I tapped at the glass vial I came to the conclusion that it probably had something to do with those adverts I had seen - the Incinerate and Telekinesis powers. I did not understand why my brain had told me this was so, but as it was the only explanation that I had I took it. If I was wrong then I would find out sooner or later.

Tinny music flooded through my ears from the balcony above me, and I followed the sound to find a garish pink haze of light illuminating the ceiling above. Another sound floated down from the balcony – a girl's voice; 'My daddy is smarter than Einstein, stronger than Hercules, and lights a fire with the snap of his fingers. Are you as good as my daddy, mister?' I followed the sound of the girl's voice, wrench held tightly in hand as I crept toward the stairs that would take me up to the balcony. 'Not if you don't visit the Gatherer's Garden, you aren't! Smart daddies get spliced at the garden.'

A bright neon hand pointed up the stairs and, written above it in yet more neon scrawl, was the word "Plasmids".

_'Plasmids. Plasmids... Why does that sound so tempting?' _I thought, enticed by some unknown item.

Atop the balcony was a bright pink vending machine type build, with two small models of little girls either side of it. Above it in the same pink scrawl was the brightly highlighted title "Gatherer's Garden", and above that a semi-circle of different symbols.

A hand-sized and ornate bottle of red fluid sat inside the vending machine, accompanied by an empty syringe, freely available to any and all who passed them. There was a label on the bottle which read "Electro Bolt".

As I gazed upon the bottle and the syringe my mouth began to salivate. _'Plasmids... temptation. Why do I want it so badly?' _And I shook my head. 'No, this is stupid, Chell.' I berated myself., verbally this time. 'You don't know what it is. It could kill you! But... on the other hand...' I reached out to the bottle and held it gently in my palm. 'I've been through Hell and back so far today. I think this will help me feel... better, about my current circumstances.'

Without thinking I expertly loaded up the syringe with the fluid (you don't live in a hospital that long without learning a few tricks of the trade), and put the wrench down in top of the vending machine.

With my left had free I turned it so that my bare wrist was showing the pale blue veins and arteries beneath my skin, creating hills and contours in my own flesh. I felt a dry and sick feeling rise in the back of my throat, creating a lump that was hard to swallow. _'Why am I doing this? Why am I not stopping myself?' _

Finally choosing a vein I traced the tip of the needle against it, shuddering under the sharp tip as I tested the pressure against my skin. With a shuddering breath I plunged into my arm, crying out in initial pain until I felt the liquid seep into my bloodstream. Calmer now, I let the empty syringe fall to the floor and felt a peace wash over me. Reclaiming my wrench with a goofy smile upon my face, I turned on my heel to make my way back downstairs.

And then the headache started. And then the fever. And then the feeling as though my body were both drowning and on fire simultaneously. An angry red haze flashed before my eyes, making the thousands of tiny veins acutely visible in my vision. I groaned constantly in pain as I staggered about, eventually finding balance and solidarity against the bannister of the balcony. But, with a cry, I dropped my wrench to the floor below, writhing in a pain that I had never felt before. I looked at my hands... they were crackling with a static charge, and flashes of electricity veined out from my wrists.

I don't know how, but Atlas had somehow discovered what I had done. 'Steady now.' He said with a friendly but strong and reassuring tone. 'Your own genetic code is being re-written. Just hold on and everything will be fine.'

'Make it stop!' I cried. 'Make it fucking stop!' I screamed with a ferocity that I had previously thought impossible.

'Just calm down. Don't do anything stupid...'

'I can't take this anymore!' And as I placed my hands against the railing I heard Atlas scream something at me over the radio. What he screamed I will never know, for I had already plunged myself head first over the railing. With one last scream I hit the floor and everything went black.


End file.
